SGone
by Aenea
Summary: The Stargate unexplainably disappears during the nightwatch. 3 teams are offworld at the time, including our intrepid heroes. Upon gating home they find themselves inside an artificial construct which responds to their every command...


SGone 

by

Aenea aka Psych Animal 

  
**DISCLAIMER:** Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. We have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. 

__

Authors Notes: I originally wrote this under the name Psych Animal for the Heliopolis Fanfiction Archive, but thought I should broadcast it for a wider audience. So I thought you should know I DID NOT RIP THIS OFF someone else, it's my own work under another name.

* * *

The SGC embarkation room. The colour scheme was limited to grey. Just different shades of grey. Whoever had the joy of the job interior decorator was severely lacking in creativity. Oh, but this is the military, so it's purely understandable. The night shift security guards stood watch. They stood at attention and stared fiercely at the wall opposite them. This defeats the purpose of the guards, as they are forced to stare forwards and therefore are unable to see if anything important is actually happening. But this is the _military_ we are talking about (the American Military at that), and any demonstration of intelligence is rare.

We'll focus on one of them for awhile. The corporal, standing in the left hand back corner, shall do nicely. He stared at the wall.

He stared some more.

He twitched his toes, then resumed his brainless vigil.

He stared some more.

He stared some more.

He blinked.

He stared some more.

He worked out his tax return.

He stared some more.

The military wait is a carefully cultivated art that confuses some of the more highly intelligent members of the human race.

He stared some more.

He had a strange feeling that something wasn't quite right.

He blinked to clear his vision, then stared some more.

He slid his eyes to the left.

Something was wrong.

The room seemed different somehow.

Like something was missing.

Something vital.

He couldn't put his finger on it, so he resumed staring.

He just couldn't ignore it.

He allowed his eyes to once again slide slowly along the room.

A fly landed on his nose.

He glared at it in the vain hope it might just leave him alone.

When that didn't work, he tossed his head, then squashed it under his boot.

His eyes continued on their laborious slide slowly towards the ramp.

There seemed to be a large, circular space that did not belong...there was definitely supposed to be something there.

Suddenly, it clicked.

The Stargate was gone.

The corporal did something that he had never done before. He spoke while he was meant to be guarding. Well, yelled would probably describe it better. He yelled loud enough to gain everyone attention, then gestured furiously towards the Stargate shaped space. There was much similar yelling and gesturing. The guards huddled together. This was no laughing matter. It was a matter of life and death. Someone was going to have to explain this to the people in charge. The people who sit where the air is very thin. It is a scary prospect, that leaves strong men (and women) weak at the knees.

The guards formed a huddle, similar to those in football. But in football, the main aim is to get the ball, whereas here the main aim was to foist the blame onto someone else. It is a common behavior known as "save your own arse, and stuff everyone else." The guards performed it with the kind of perfection that only comes with years of practice.

"...Do you think we could just say it was like this when we got here?"

"Somehow, I think that wouldn't go over well with the day shift." This one was smart. He had learned the lesson of "blame the people who aren't going to find out." If you blame someone who has proof of his or her innocence it doesn't help your case much.

"Well, what are we gonna do? I mean, I don't particularly want to be the one who has to explain to General Hammond how the Stargate just happened to disappear while we were guarding it!" This one has avoided the dreaded task by mentioning it. No one will think to ask the person who suggested the idea to actually perform. That would just be wrong.

"Okay....umm. I guess we could say that we were attacked. Would that work?"

"Minor problem. How did they get through the iris?"

"They attacked from space?"

"And NASA missed them... how?"

"They were a long way away?"

"...okay, maybe that'll work. We'll stick with that one."

"Shouldn't we, you know, like, rig the security cameras? And dupe some wounds? Make it seem slightly realistic?" Here we have someone who is well learned in the art of saving your own skin. Cover your tracks. Very good observation. For an American. (For all those Americans out there who take offence to that, substitute with a country of your choice.)

The corporal, whom we now know intimately through our earlier observations of his actions, proceeded with the rigging of the security cameras. Then he joined his fellow partners in crime in la la land with the help of a convenient gun butt he happened to be carrying. It was a very realistic duped wound. In fact, it was more than realistic. It was real. And will be quite painful when he regains consciousness. But that is later on in the story, and I wouldn't want to ruin it for you.

*

Picture a grassy clearing, surrounded by trees. Add a few birds and the occasional rustling in the bushes. A typical day in the forest. Oh, with the exception of the bloody great stone ring standing in the middle of the clearing. But other than that, perfectly normal. The kind of clearing that features in fairy tales, just before the innocent heroine is set upon by the big bad (insert villain here). Maybe this will happen here. I could use some entertainment. Or maybe it won't happen. This is a nice, calm, peaceful clearing. And, I hate to say it, rather boring. It needs something to brighten it up a little. Here comes someone now.

Walking proudly through the underbrush (like a teddy bear! Anyone else remember that lame rhyme from their early childhood?), came the majestic...okay, I am being too generous. Trudging apathetically through the sludge and weeds that made up the forest floor came the bedraggled and slightly irritated forms of SG-1. It should be declared illegal for ambassadors of Earth to look so unkempt. Who is going to take a muddy, wet, smelly male in desperate need of a shave seriously when they announce they are seeking an alliance? Add in the fact that they are demonstrating their stupidity by walking around with their names and point of origin in plain view, who in their right mind would agree? And before anyone mentions the Tok'ra, think about this. I said in their _right_ mind. But, I digress. Back to this enthralling narrative that I am sure has left you captivated. (Sarcasm, for the less observant.)

The desperately-in-need-of-a-shower came walking (wading?) through the underbrush in the classic military formation they were sort of strung out in a line. Taking point came the now-not-so-lovely form that was Major/Doctor Samantha Carter. Her doctorate was in theoretical astrophysics. As General Hammond so eloquently put in "Children of the Gods", this meant that she was one hell of a lot smarter than Jack O'Neill. What the General failed to take into account was the fact that the same could be said for just about anyone. Including the rats that the maintenance crew is still trying to get rid of. She would be an attractive woman under different circumstances. For instance, if she'd had a shower in the past two weeks and had been wearing clothes that weren't flattering to begin with and were certainly not now after spending several days in them. Another reason why someone might prefer her under other circumstances is the fact that she was adorned with an arsenal able to supply a guerilla war for several weeks, instead of the customary jewelry. Strangely enough, her blonde hair had still managed to keep its healthy shine, and hadn't stayed messy any longer than 5 minutes. It leaves us lesser beings wondering 'how does she do that?' The hair, which was cut into the contemporary fashion of a short style, was currently in the process of being irreversibly flattened under her fatigue helmet. It left only a shaggy fringe protruding just far enough to get in her eyes. This fringe had suffered from too much attention of annoyed fingers, so it was defiantly refusing to stay where Sam pushed it. It was causing her great annoyance, and she was not in a very approachable mood. Which explains why she was taking point.

Trudging along behind Sam was the distracted form of Dr. Daniel Jackson. He has a slight habit of becoming the errant form of Daniel Jackson at frequent intervals, so was no longer allowed to take point of rear. This was so that he could be constantly under Jack O'Neill's scrutiny, and won't feel the urge to abandon the task at hand. He had originally had hair longer than Sam's, so he was sympathizing with her plight. But he had surrendered to his military surroundings, and had undergone a haircut. It was most likely a very traumatic experience for him, so we won't go into any details. He was quietly grateful that he no longer had to suffer from the same predicament that currently plagued Samantha. He also was decked out in the fatigues in a similar state to Samantha's. While he didn't have the fringe to constantly irritate him, he did have the annoying stubble that decorated his face. Beards did not suit him, and it was a wish shared by both him and everyone else that he would soon get the opportunity to shave it off. (I am feeling an uncontrollable urge to say this- Sam also feels in need of a shave. Her legs itch.) He was also adorned with a conspicuously large amount of weaponry, and a pair of glasses. The glasses seemed unfitting when you take in his appearance, but it does seem more fitting to his role with the Stargate Command (SGC for short. The person who named it was suffering from the same lack of creativity as the interior decorator.) Daniel Jackson was a civilian expert in Egyptology hired by the military to act as a consultant. (Despite the popular belief, he was in fact originally hired for his skills in Egyptology, not linguistics, anthropology, archeology and whatever other PhDs people have decided to grant him in order to serve a purpose.)

Following Daniel Jackson came the overpowering persona that was Jack O'Neill. He was yet another tallish man, older than Jackson, with gray hair. His face looked like it had seen better days, and that in those better days, it would have borne a striking resemblance to Macgyver. His uniform fit him very well, which suggests that he has spent great deals of time in it. O'Neill carried the exact same arsenal as Sam, but it didn't look quite as conspicuous on him. In fact, it would have looked more conspicuous if he hadn't. He walked with the easy going stride of someone who has broken his boots in very well, thank you very much. He was rather attached to his boots. They were nearing the end of their time, and were currently in the middle of the transition form broken in to broken up. You can tell this by the way his feet are breaking out. (They weren't breaking out with anything in particular, though that would be rather amusing. They were breaking out in general.) Despite this, he was not ready to part with his beloved shoes. They were comfy.

Teal'c was bringing up the rear, as per usual. He was a darkly hued man (I am being politically correct. It is considered rude to refer to someone as black.) with a strange gold emblem embossed on his forehead. It announced to those with high enough security clearances (or those who sypathise with his unfortunate plight) that Teal'c carries a larval Goa'uld inside a pouch in his stomach. The Goa'uld, nicknamed Junior, was an unfortunate burden that Teal'c was forced to carry due to the minor fact that if he didn't, he would die. Bit of a problem. But he was enthusiastically helping in the research that may one day get the little bugger out of him. He looks forward to that day with great expectations. He may even smile when it eventually comes around...or then again, maybe not. He will dance though. One foot on Junior, then the other foot, until we have Goa'uld jam. Teal'c wore less arsenal than the other three, but he made up for it by carrying a BIG gun. Technically, it was called a staff weapon, and was the standard weapon carried by Jaffa. When you really think about it, this is a pretty stupid idea on his part. The natives on all the worlds they visit know the Goa'uld and, as the Goa'uld do not have a reputation for being for being very caring towards their slaves, the natives didn't like them. At all. Which makes the statement "We come in peace" wholly invalid when accompanied by someone who looks suspiciously like a Jaffa, and who just happens to be carrying a staff weapon. But, then again, Teal'c has carried it for his entire adult life, so it has taken the role of a security blanket of sorts to Teal'c. It has also served many other roles, such as club and walking stick. It was currently being used for that use right now. Yes, both as a club and a walking stick. Sometimes Jackson had to be encouraged not to wander off in more immediate ways.

The group that was SG-1 left a trail of footprints on the mud, punctuated by the occasional indent from a staff weapon. Finally, they reached the Stargate. There, seemingly basking in an ethereal glow, was the MALP laden down with supplies. They fell upon it with enthusiasm. What followed was a scab grab over the coffee, the fresh clothes and who could have the first wash in the nearby stream. The results were Sam winning the first wash by putting on an uncharacteristic show of anger at anyone who so much as looked like challenging her for her coveted position. Daniel went straight for the coffee. Not to anyone's surprise. Teal'c stood aside with a perplexed expression on his face (his eyebrow was raised), while Jack snatched a fresh set of fatigues and rushed behind a tree. He looked at Daniel, seeking explanation.

"Don't ask," Daniel said as he sipped the coffee. He savored the taste. It was amazing how good instant coffee will taste to an addict when they have been deprived for several days. He was in seventh heaven.

Sam was also in seventh heaven. She was CLEAN again! It was an amazing feeling! Not only did her hair do as she said to now, but her legs no longer itched. She pulled on her clean fatigues, and kicked at the dirty ones disdainfully. Then she stuffed them into her pack looking around sheepishly, and headed back to the campsite. She was no longer trudging apathetically, but walking in the more stereotypical "I'm from Earth, join us or we'll shoot you" manner that people expect from ambassadors. Or from the Tok'ra, but we'll discuss this later.

It was incredible the change that took place in SG-1 within those few hours where they were able to clean themselves up again. Daniel had lost the horrible attempt at a beard, and was far more comfortable. So was everyone else. It really was terrible. Sam was in a much better mood, Jack was happy to be wearing fresh clothing (but those boots stayed. They were irreplaceable), and Teal'c looked slightly less stoic than earlier. His symbiote was no longer experiencing distress caused by the unpleasant smells that tend to radiate when someone neglects to wash. They were actually beginning to look like respectable ambassadors for Earth. With this great improvement, they dialled for home and stepped through the gate...

*

General George Hammond was not happy. General Hammond was not pleased. General Hammond was, to put bluntly, _royally pissed off_!! It had left him stumped as to how an attack could have taken place at his base but not have any records of it. The minor fact that NASA had also missed the attackers and that the Stargate was gone did not add up very well. He was utterly bewildered. He was wondering whether he should inform the president now, or wait until he knew something for sure when the intercom phone rang. He glared at it. When it stubbornly refused to disintegrate into millions of tiny little pieces he reluctantly picked it up.

"_General Hammond, it's Janet. I know this is probably a bad time sir, but you should probably get down here right away."_

Hammond looked around his office a final time (with regretful glances aimed at the table in particular. There sat a fresh cup of rich smelling coffee just begging to be drunk.) Hammond found he couldn't resist, so he snatched the coffee and downed it in one go, burning his tongue in the process. But it was worth it. He then straightened his uniform and headed down to the infirmary.

Doctor Janet Fraiser turned around as the General entered. His uniform was, as usual, so well fitting that it looked sewn on rather than buttoned. She wondered how he managed to have his uniforms tailored so well on a General's pay. She then dismissed the thought, thinking some things are better left unexplained.

The General inclined his customarily shiny, bald head at her in a gesture that she should get on with it, he was a very busy man and did not appreciate being disturbed for minor matters. We all actually know that the source of this annoyance was the scalded tongue and the interesting messages the nerve endings contained within were sending to his brain. These messages are commonly referred to as pain. It is the kind of message that the nerves with the bad luck to reside in the bodies of Sg1 are so often required to send. Maybe the brain receives these messages so often that it begins to think of it as junk mail and deletes it instantly, which explains why marines can walk around with half their arm missing and still say "It's just a flesh wound, sir." But I digress. Janet sighed and prepared herself for the job at hand.

"If you'll come this way..." she said, and turned towards her office.

General Hammond regarded the petite red headed woman in front of him. Her hair was tidy for once, which suggested that this particular emergency wasn't really all that bad. She turned around and regarded him with gamine eyes, then launched into an eagerly awaited (on Hammond's part only, Fraiser was not awaiting this eagerly at all) explanation. General Hammond sat back, expecting a long-winded spiel.

"The Night Shift Guards are lying," she stated simply. Hammond waited for the rest. It didn't come. He blinked, then processed what she had just said, then very eloquently said, "What? Why would they lie about the Stargate going...oh, wait. I get it."

Fraiser let out a sigh of relief. She had not been looking forward to explaining to the General that he had a slight problem with stress management when it came to things going wrong. And the poor man who had brought the news usually bore the brunt of this anger. She knew from experience. She faced the General, and noticed that he had a _look_ on his face. A look that suggested that someone had better explain what the hell was going on before he lost his temper in new and colourful ways. She ran her fingers through her hair. Hammond cringed. She looked at him oddly, wondering what that was all about, then started to explain.

"The Night Shift were all unconscious when we found them, as you already know," she began. She looked to Hammond for encouragement before continuing.

"All but Corporal Mansfield regained consciousness soon after being brought to infirmary, and they all told the same story of them being attacked by an unknown force. Now, Corporal Mansfield received a severe blow to the head, and was a little out of it. He blurted out to everyone nearby the actual truth. Thankfully, there wasn't anyone near. I informed you immediately."

General Hammond leaned back in his chair again. This was more like the explanations he was used to. He nodded at her to keep going, she was doing very well. She sat heavily, and ran her fingers through her hair, once again causing the General to cringe.

"It turns out that the Stargate disappeared while the Guard Duty were all conscious and alert. They noticed that it was missing quite awhile after the event, and faked records to escape blame." She had pieced together what had happened quite well given that all she had to work from was the ramblings of a semi-conscious man. Then again, she has gained the experience that only those who have raised, or are currently in the process of raising children.

General Hammond looked pensive. She grew worried, and ran her fingers through her hair again. Hammond managed not to cringe this time, because he was sick of the strange looks she kept sending him. They were disconcerting.

"So all we have to do now is find out _how_ the Stargate managed to disappear right under our noses? Bearing in mind that there are currently _three_ SG teams offworld! Is this an improvement?!"

Janet thought over all her optional answers, then finally settled on, "I'm not sure, sir. Perhaps you should raise the question to people who are trained in these kinds of situations and leave me to do my job. With all due respect, of course."

With that, she rose and exited her office, leaving Hammond sitting with a shocked look on his face. He dismissed her behaviour as caused by a lack of sleep, and set to do exactly as she had said. Find someone who cared.

*

Jack O'Neill stepped through the event horizon of the Stargate and looked around. He was closely followed by Daniel Jackson, Samantha Carter and Teal'c.

"This doesn't look like the SGC..." commented Daniel as he looked around. Jack felt the need to add his unwarranted, and highly unamusing (to all exempting Jack) comment. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."

Teal'c turned to look at him, and raised an eyebrow. (Anyone surprised?)

"Who is this Dorothy you refer to?" Teal'c asked. His voice carried about the only emotion he ever managed, total confusion.

*

For atmosphere's sake, imagine the camera zoomed out from the Stargate and the small group clustered around it, giving an amazing view, of what suspiciously looked like a Dyson Sphere. It's one of those logarithmic acceleration things that would have turned the camera into a bunch of broken components if someone were to ever try it, but it does look good on screen. Back to the Dyson's sphere. There's this thing about Dyson's spheres. They cannot exist. But there it was. For those who are woefully uneducated, and obviously haven't read 'Ringworld', a Dyson sphere is an artificially created world...sort of. Putting it simply, it is basically an enormous sphere, which has an inner surface that looks for all the world like a natural environment, with trees and oceans and everyone. In the centre of the sphere is a star, which would act as a sun. It would have an incredible amount of surface area, which would make it an ideal solution to an overly large population. Unfortunately, it was a great idea and just that. It is theoretically impossible to build one. I say theoretically because, well, here is one right in front of our very eyes. Which is probably why Sam is sitting on the floor with her mouth hanging open, looking ludicrous.

O'Neill finally noticed the fact that his second-in-command is currently looking around in abject disbelief, muttering "this can't be...it just can't" under her breath. She had been doing this ever since she had stepped out of the Stargate, but no one ever accused O'Neill of being particularly observant. He knelt down next to her and mumbled "Hey, Carter, you okay?"

Sam looked up at her CO sheepishly, then stood up.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she murmured back. Jackson and Teal'c joined them and all three looked to Sam for some sort of explanation. They always looked at either Sam or Daniel to pull explanations out of a metaphorical hat, depending on the circumstances. Sam longed to say "What makes you think I have any idea what the hell is going on?" for once, but restrained herself. She removed her helmet and shook her hair out. Then she turned towards them and opened her mouth...

...to be rudely interrupted by Colonel O'Neill.

"No offence or anything, Major, but in English please." He decided to get it in before she started, and save himself from any confusion in trying to figure out what she had said. She gave him a filthy look, then opened her mouth again.

"This _appears_ to be a Dyson's Sphere." She waited. And waited. It didn't come.

"You do all realise that this is impossible?" she asked. And stared when all three shook their heads dumbly. Imbeciles. She was stranded with a group of imbeciles. Of course, she couldn't say this aloud.

"Okay, I have to explain don't I?" Three heartfelt nods. "Right. How can I put this...have any of you read Ringworld?" Three apologetic shakes. "Orbitsville, maybe?" Three shakes, followed by an exchange of confused glances. "Damn. Okay, you all know about the possible population problems we face? You know, too many people, not enough room etc?" Two relieved nods, here was familiar ground. One perplexed shake, followed by a raised eyebrow. Sam gave a quick explanation for Teal'c's benefit, then came back to the larger explanation. "Ummm...okay. I know how I'll do this. Look up." Three exchanges of looks that seemed to say "Has she been in the sun just a bit too long?" Three heads look up. Three heads look down. Two identical looks of amazement, one raised eyebrow. "Exactly. A Dyson Sphere is basically an artificial habitat. It is a sphere that encloses it's own sun. If you look closely, you can see the other side. See?" Three nods, with looks of dawning understanding. "But they're impossible to build..." Sam trailed off when she saw the perplexed expression of Daniel's face.

"Why can't you build one?" Daniel asked. Sam opened her mouth to explain. "Actually, on second thought, pretend I didn't ask. What do we do now?"

"We...could walk to the other side and see if there's anyone here?" suggested Jack, naively. Sam winced. He was _painfully _uneducated.

"Er, Colonel? The sphere is approximately 625 million times the surface area of Earth in size."

Jack's lips moved a little as he repeated what she had just said under his breath. There was a pregnant pause as he worked out the numbers in his head. You could swear you heard gears grinding. Finally, he let out a sigh of disbelief.

"So we're talking _real_ big here, Carter?"

"Afraid so, sir."

"On second thought, let's just stay here and wait for someone to come get us, huh?"

Everyone seemed fine with that idea, which was perfectly understandable given the fact that they had just spent the better part of two weeks trudging through mud and were justifiably sick of walking. All were happy until Daniel raised the question no one else had thought of. (Notice it is always Daniel who notices these little discrepancies? Well, Jack is very good at spotting the really big discrepancies like there-are-people-pointing-guns-at-us-and-looking-really-pissed-off. Sam can spot the subtler discrepancies like the-ground-is-shaking-violently-we-should-probably-go, and Teal'c just points out the blatantly obvious and asks irritating questions at inopportune moment. But, again I digress...)

"We dialed the right address, so why are we here?" asked Daniel.

Everyone stared at him.

*

General Hammond was sitting in the briefing room with an excited Graham Simmons.

"So you want me to try and fix the security tapes?" he asked, leaning forward enthusiastically. Hammond looked at Simmons, and almost regretted his choice in the matter.

"Yes, Lieutenant, I want you to fix the tapes. Preferably soon. SG-1 and 3 were both due back this morning, and SG-11 is due back soon. I'd like to know where they are."

Simmons managed to repress a dopey grin, and nodded with a fair attempt at a serious expression. It wasn't that he wasn't worried for them, but it wasn't all that often he was given the opportunity to work on something so important. He then grabbed the tapes and headed off to the labs. Not without a quick stop to the commissary first, to grab a coffee. Something told him that he'd be working on this for awhile. He didn't have to line up this time because the coffee addicts were all on the Dyson Sphere. He doesn't know this though, so we probably shouldn't tell him.

Janet Fraiser was, for once, out of the loop. She did not like it one bit. So she finished her incident report, and promptly headed to the labs. Where she found Graham Simmons slaving over the security tapes. He looked up as she entered.

"I think I might have found something at 0217. Just give me a few more minutes to clear it up a bit..." Janet made herself comfortable, and waited patiently. She rocked her foot back and forth and absently fixed up her hair. A few minutes later, Graham announced his success.

"Here we go..."

Janet stared at the screen while the tape ran it's course, then picked up the phone.

"General? We have something."

*

General Hammond was an armed and dangerous man...for approximately five seconds. After this interval, Graham Simmons demonstrated an incredible display of courage and integrity. He reached over and removed the remote controller from General Hammond's hand. It was a lesson Simmons had learnt when he had first served under Hammond's command, one that every tech who ever had served with him had. Never, under any circumstances, let Hammond have the remote. He covered for his actions with a mumbled explanation, along the lines of "The tape's been through quite a work out and is rather delicate." Hammond accepted this with ill grace, then leant back to watch what he hoped would be a special effects extravaganza. He was to be disappointed.

The tape began to play with the same muffled sound and poor picture quality that can be expected from a videocassette. Especially one that has been tampered with, pored over, un-tampered and watched several times by various people. The day when they introduce security cameras that tape onto DVD's will be a day vastly celebrated by technicians such as Graham Simmons, who had just spent all day and the better half of the night before reconstructing the original recording. He was rather tired, but very proud that the tape still remained viewable at all. Then General Hammond made a fatal error.

"Why is the quality so poor?"

Graham gave the General a filthy look, snatched up his coffee (and in the process spilt some on the table, leaving a horrible sticky stain that will stubbornly refuse to surrender to the cleaning crew) and stormed out of the briefing room. Hammond watched him go with a shocked look on his face. He turned to Doctor Fraiser.

"What'd I say?"

Janet sighed, and gave the easiest explanation she could think of.

"He's suffering from sleep deprivation, and is a little cranky. It'll pass."

"It had damn well better pass! I won't let that kind of behaviour go by without a severe reprimand."

Janet opened her mouth to object, then realised that General Hammond was suffering from the same condition that Graham Simmons had been suffering from. But in a larger scale. Hammond had been awake since this whole fiasco started. She thought better of her objection, and simply said, "Hadn't we better watch this and try to ascertain what is going on, sir?"

General Hammond looked duly admonished, then said, "Oh, yes. Shall we?"

The tape resumed it's poorly represented story.

It showed the Gate room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There was the Stargate, looking like a useless circle of metal decorated with pretty little pictures.

There was the ramp, leading up to the useless circle of metal decorated with pretty little pictures.

There were the Night Shift Guards, staring furiously at the wall in front of them, guarding the useless circle of metal decorated with pretty little pictures. They did this very well I might add.

There was the white glow surrounding the useless circle of metal decorated with pretty little pictures.

Where was the useless circle of metal covered with pretty little pictures?

General Hammond stared at the screen. He rubbed his face with his hands. He stared out the window behind him, looking out onto the now empty Gate Room. He stared back at the television screen.

"Oh....darn," he said. The script writers had spoken to him about his language, and he was making an attempt to clean it up to maintain the rating.

*

O'Neill had finally grasped the concept of a Dyson's Sphere. Well, the much simplified version of the concept of it anyway. What he was having trouble with was exactly _why_ it couldn't exist. It sounded like a perfectly good idea to him, and why would you let a perfectly good idea go to waste just because of a few little things like contradictory facts? Carter had long since given up explaining the why, and had just settled for a perfectly good reason. One that any good scientist would give when attempting to explain something to a military person, who are used to plain and simple explanations like 'those guys are the baddies, so we shoot them.'

"It just can't, okay?!" she yelled at Jack.

O'Neill accepted this comment with good grace (by replying "No, it's not okay! I wanna know why!!) and had walked over to Daniel in the vain hope that he would explain it in a manner that O'Neill could understand. After all, he was a linguist. He should be able to explain things using only monosyllabic words. Unfortunately, the only reply he got was an irritated, "Why is it that you always choose to ask questions at the least appropriate time, Jack?"

Teal'c had heard Jack's incessant questions directed first at Carter, then at Jackson, so had retreated to the safety of their makeshift tent. He did not feel a compelling urge to try to explain an alien concept to Jack. He was having enough trouble with it himself.

The relative silence (relative being the operative word here. Jack was still asking questions, but everyone had learnt to ignore him by this time) was broken by a sound of metal grinding together. It sounded suspiciously like chevrons locking. SG-1 looked up at the noise, then all jumped up and ran towards the Stargate. Could it be the long awaited rescue team?

No.

That would just be too easy. Narrative gods don't work that way. They make things worse, not better.

The Stargate engaged, the substance that bore an odd resemblance to water rushed outwards horizontally, then seemed to be embarrassed, so it rushed right back in again. There it stabilised into the event horizon of an incoming wormhole. There was a pregnant pause. Followed by the four bodies exiting the Stargate at a high velocity on an upwards trajectory.

On the slow motion replay we can read the SG-11 insignia embroidered onto their shirts. This was quite surprising to SG-1. They thought that they were the only ones who left the event horizons with that kind of urgency. It might cause some worry among the members who had placed money on SG-1 pissing off the most amount of people in the long running bet. But hey, at least they were ahead on the amount of injuries and deaths. It's not very often you meet a team which has suffered more deaths in total than members, yet still as all it's original members with no replacements. They are something of a legend. But, back to the narrative...

"Close the iris! Close it now!! Hey...where's the iris?" Captain Connors asked plaintively. He looked around. "And I might add, where is the SGC?" He saw SG-1. "Oh. Now I understand."

Colonel O'Neill processed these last few comments. It took several minutes, during which everyone else had begun a fast paced conversation regarding what the hell was going on. "Hey!" Everyone looked at him. "What the hell was that supposed to mean?!"

"That....I am telling SG-11 that we're on a Dyson Sphere?"

"No!" Jack is suffering from conversational lag. He is still processing old data. "What he said."

There was a collective; "...riiiiiiiiight." Then the conversation resumed. O'Neill looked suitably put out, and decided to refrain from future comment. He sat down dejectedly, and listened to Carter explain once again what a Dyson Sphere was.

He thought that he might have finally understood the whole concept when she finished. Until Connors asked why it couldn't exist. And was bombarded with reasons by both SG-1 and SG-11's respective scientists. O'Neill had absolutely no idea what they were saying. But by the look on Captain Connors face, neither did he. Everyone tried to follow for several minutes, but by the time Sam and Doctor Peterson had finished, there was no audience.

"Oh...I hate it when they do that!!" they said in harmony.

*

General Hammond was still trying to get his facts straight. He did not want to face the President, and this was a good method of procrastinating. He watched the already poor quality tape over and over and over...The alternative was explaining why they had to ship the gate from it's hiding place in Area 51, at great expense, and the only explanation he had was a frame by frame view of the gate just...diappearing. Ok so that was not really a satisfactory way to spend his day.

Until the tape finally wore out, and all there that was left was static. Then he reached for the phone.

"Is there some way you can fix this tape up a little more?"

"Has it stopped working?"

"Yes, and I have to show something to the President." '_Though I very much don't want to. Please say you can't, PLEASE say you can't!!_

"Then it is most likely beyond repair." _YES!!!_

"But there is a back up copy of the tape, sir." _NOOOOOOOOOO!!_

"...sir?"

"Thank you, Captain."

General Hammond sat back in his chair and rocked. He chewed on his lip, then stood up. He straightened his uniform (this was a nervous tic, just like Doctor Fraiser and running her fingers through her hair.) and began to pace. Then he came to a decision. He was going to try and solve this problem himself, and _if_ that didn't work, he'd tell the President. He nodded to himself then set off.

The briefing room was full. There was General Hammond, Doctor Fraiser, Major Kovacek and SG-9, the dreaded diplomatic team. All gathered around the most prized possession in the SGC: the coffee maker. Major Kovacek was bestowed the honour of the pouring of the coffee, while everyone else drank in rapture. It was a time honoured ritual, and must be performed before any briefing. This is because briefing, despite their name, is never brief. Anyway, the group then sat around the table and arranged their respective prepared folders. General Hammond waited impatiently, then began abruptly.

"You all know why we are here. We are going... what is it, Lieutenant?"

"Why exactly are we here, sir?" General Hammond looked over at his aide-de-camp.

"I thought you told me everyone would be briefed already!" he hissed.

"They all should be...how about I take Lieutenant Fletcher outside and brief him, sir?"

"Make it quick, we don't have any time to spare." The aide-de-camp nodded, then backed outside, gesturing frantically to the Lieutenant to follow. General Hammond looked back at the remaining people.

"Right. Anyway, we are going to determine who exactly took our Stargate, and we're not leaving this room until we do." There was a collective round of various protests. General Hammond listened attentively, then said, "If we're still in here in three hours, I'll let you go and set your video recorders, ring your family, etc. Okay?" A collective sigh of relief.

"Now, who do we know that is advanced enough to do this?"

"Ummmm, the Nox?"

"The Tollans?"

"The Asgard?"

"God help us...the Tok'ra?"

General Hammond cringed. He had very little patience for the Tok'ra, and sentiment shared by almost everyone who knew of their existence. They had a nasty little habit of performing experiments. And when they didn't work, getting the SGC to come along and clean it all up. There was the armbands, the phages, their attempts at rescue efforts, it did not add up to a very good impression of their behalf. But it did seem very likely that it would be them.

"Alright. I want SG-7 to have the second Stargate brought out of storage, and set up. Then I want SG teams 5 & 6 to establish contact with the Tollans and the Nox. We'll see if this is they're doing...but I very much doubt it."

"What about the Tok'ra and the Asgard?"

"Oh, we'll contact them too."

"How?"

"Same way we always do. Sit around and wait for them to contact us."

*

Connors, Levinson and Michaels were all getting...well, the best way to describe them right now is bored stupid. The only people who seemed to have anything to do were Carter and Peterson. Which led to the question; what were Colonel O'Neill, Doctor Jackson and Teal'c doing to keep themselves amused. They set out in order to gather information.

"I'll raise you fifty cents."

"Fifty cents! That's pitiful, Daniel!"

"It's all I have on me!"

"I still fail to understand the point of this exercise," That was Teal'c, who else.

Connors listened in confusion, then figured it out.

"They're playing poker!" He ran over and asked to join them. Soon, everyone except the two scientists were engaged in a fiercely competitive game. Eventually, curiosity got the better of Levinson. He just had to know.

"Why do you have a pack of cards here?"

Jack grinned.

"Because no matter where we go, Daniel or Sam finds something interesting, well to them anyway, and prattle on and on about it. It can get rather boring for Teal'c and me. So about three missions ago, we decided that each mission, someone will bring some form of entertainment with them. It's worked out rather well. Even Sam and Daniel join in...when they're not going on and on about the 'cultural significance' or the 'interesting land formations.' You should try it too."

Connors took this idea under advisement. (_Author's note: He did in fact take this very seriously. In every mission after this one, he always had at least a pack of cards with him._)

*

SG-6 was already back. They were sorry to report that it wasn't the Nox at fault. General Hammond was disappointed. Out of all the possible candidates, the Nox were his favourite. They didn't go around starting galactic wars with metallic creatures, or force his second-in-command to go under cover for them, or try out all their latest gizmos on his number one team. But the simple reason that they didn't do any of that had pretty much ruled them out. Damn. That left the Tollans, the Tok'ra and the Asgard. Hammond thought he could pretty much rule out the Tollans. And the Tok'ra and Asgard did seem like the most likely race. That meant that there was nothing he could do but wait for them to contact him. While he still had three teams off world. This did not sit well with Hammond at all. He had developed a nasty habit of pacing the control room. He had yet to learn that people do not do their best work when they have their irritated superior staring over their shoulders and asking about progress every few minutes. Everyone was on edge when SG-5 returned.

Hammond looked up hopefully. He was disappointed yet again.

"I regret to inform you that the Tollans deny all knowledge of the incident, sir," reported the commander. He was hoping that the Nox were at fault- a vain hope, but a hope all the same- but gathered from General Hammond's expression that this what not so. He came to the only possible conclusion- that the Tok'ra or the Asgard were at fault. This did not bode well for anyone who would be unfortunate enough to annoy General Hammond. They may have to serve as an ambassador to them. Not a pleasant job.

Hammond retreated to his office, where he stared at the red phone for several hours. He was debating whether his earlier decision had it's merits. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that it didn't, and that in future all command decisions should be made after some thought.

He was still staring when there was an off world activation.

His Aide-de-camp saw who it was, and briefly entertained the thought of resigning. He decided against, and bravely headed to General Hammond's office.

"Sir...sir, the Tok'ra are here." He waited for the verbal abuse that was sure to follow. There was none. Just a strange noise. He peered around the door. General Hammond was sitting hunched over, staring at the remains of what once had been the dreaded red telephone. He looked up and saw his aide-de-camp.

"What?"

"The Tok'ra are here."

"**_censored in order to keep our rating_**"

"Yes, that sums up my opinion exactly. Shall I inform them that you are unavailable?"

"...no. Send them to a briefing room. Oh, and make sure there's coffee on hand."

The aide nodded, then ducked back around the corner. Hammond sighed, stood up and straightened his uniform, then paged Doctor Fraiser.

*

The poker game was still going in earnest. Daniel had folded early on in the game, not wanting to lose his only fifty cents. Teal'c had folded soon after, not understanding the rules. It was quite a shame, his poker face was perfect. Slowly, the numbers had dwindled down until it was just Colonel O'Neill and Captain Connors. O'Neill looked at his hand. It was a pair of threes, a pair of sixes and a queen of hearts. He looked at the pile of money. He looked back at his hand. This went on for several minutes. Connors was getting quite irritated. He was proud of his hand. A full house. And the money pile was rather large. O'Neill opened his mouth to bet...

And was interrupted by the Stargate engaging. The cards went flying, and six men went running towards the Stargate. Teal'c lagged behind, then dashed back and scooped up all the money. He may not be good at poker, but he knew a good opportunity when he saw it. He smiled to himself, then ran after everyone else.

Colonel Makepeace (now isn't that an appropriate name for a marine) stepped through the 'gate with his usual arrogance.

"We came, we saw, we...asked where the hell the SGC went."

Colonel O'Neill snickered. Makepeace sent him a filthy look. The rest of SG-3 gathered behind him and tried to look dangerous. It succeeded, but only because any half wit armed with half the stuff they were armed with looked dangerous. Sam saw a perfect opportunity for...well, there is no nice way of putting it, so I'll just come right out and say it. She saw a perfect opportunity to show off at SG-3's expense.

"You wouldn't understand if I explained. Colonel?" Jack looked up, with a shocked "me?" expression on his face. "Would you care to explain our current situation to SG-3?"

Jack grinned. "With pleasure, Major. If you'll come this way..."

Jack led SG-3 off, followed by Daniel Jackson. He wasn't going to miss this for the world.

*

"Right. Now, have any of you read 'Ringsville' or 'Orbitworld'?"

"Well...not those specific books, no. But I have read 'Ringworld' and 'Orbitsville,'" answered Johnson.

"Oh...well good, then. So you know what a Davidson Sphere is then."

"Well...no. But I do know what a _Dyson Sphere_ is."

"...Yeah, that. We're on one of them."

"Don't you mean 'in' one of them?" asked Makepeace. He looked at Jack expectantly. Jack blinked, then stared at Makepeace.

"What?" was all he could say after several minutes of intense thought. Intense for Jack anyway.

"Well, if we were on one of them then we wouldn't be able to see the sun, but we could see the stars. But we can't see the stars and we can see the sun, so therefore we must be in one, not on one," explained Makepeace, all without drawing a breath. Jack looked at him incredulously.

"...riiiiiiight."

"But they're impossible to build, so we can't be in one, sir," put in Major Anderson.

Now Jack was back on familiar ground

"Well, we're in one, so they must be possible to build." He smiled smugly. It made perfect sense to him.

"Not necessarily, sir. This could be an artificial created reality, or an alternate universe or..." Anderson was the only member of SG-3 who was not dropped on his head when he was a baby. He was oxygen deprived. So he was their 'person who knows stuff.' The Marines didn't rate an actual scientist, because all they do is blow stuff up, and the Marines can do that all by themselves with out knowing why the bomb blew up. But I have digressed again!(Slap on wrist) Jack stopped listening. He preferred his explanation. It was simple, to the point and most importantly, it didn't involve speculation. He allowed Anderson to prattle on for a bit. He figured that he would run out of possible reasons eventually. It was about the time when Makpeace joined in the speculation that Jack grew irritated. And when the entire team of SG-3 began having a heated argument about quantum physics that Jack stormed off dramatically. It was a waste of effort. The only person who noticed was Daniel, and all it did was serve to heighten his amusement. He couldn't contain himself. He ran off trying to cover his snickers with his hand. Unsuccessfully.

Jack stormed back to where Carter was gathering soil samples. He had no idea why she bothered, this wasn't the planet they were ordered to check out. In fact, Jack had finally grasped the concept that this wasn't a planet at all.

Carter looked up. "Did it go well with SG-3?" she asked. She saw Daniel come walking out in the same direction Jack had been going.

"Oh, um, it went...um...great! It went really, really well." Daniel couldn't have been handed a better line if he tried.

"Yeah, Jack. _Really_ well," he said, trying to hold back the laughter that kept threatening to escape again. Jack shot him a _look_, and Daniel came very close to losing the battle. He turned his back to Jack, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.

"Oh, well, that's good then," said Sam. Something had happened and judging by the way Daniel was acting, it was obviously highly amusing. She vowed to get it out of him later, and grinned to herself.

"Well done," she said as she patted him patronisingly on the back. Daniel lost pitifully, and doubled over, running for the tents, laughing. Jack gave his retreating back a filthy look, then stomped over to Teal'c. Sam grinned again. It always brightened her day when someone made fun of Jack. Especially when that someone was her.

*

Teal'c had watched the scene that had played out before him in confusion. He did not understand the nuances of Daniel and Sam's behaviour well enough to appreciate the subtle nuances. But he has improved enough to realise that they were amused at Jack's expense. He watched as Jack stomped over to him.

"I hate scientists!" Jack yelled. Teal'c nodded understandingly. He had seen other's do it and had a fair idea that it was the right thing to do under the circumstances.

"They get on my nerves!!" Jacked ranted on some more. "Think they know everything, and now even Makepeace is acting like one!!"

Teal'c pondered over this last statement, then came the conclusion that the best course of action would be to continue looking understanding. He nodded in agreement. He raised an eyebrow experimentally. It worked a treat, but then he already knew that.

"You're the only one who listens to me!!"

Teal'c felt the need to say something comforting. He thought for a minute. No, nothing came to him. "Daniel Jackson and Major Carter listen to you, O'Neill. They just choose to ignore you most of the time." Teal'c waited.

O'Neill gave him a grateful look.

"Finally!! Someone who agrees with me. Thanks Teal'c," said Jack, and he walked off. Teal'c blinked and tried to figure out what just happened, with little success. His eyebrow hurt so he lowered it. It was a blessed relief.

*

Captain Connors waited until all the forms of shelter required had been constructed before asking the question that had been plaguing him for some time now. He gathered everyone together in a space left in the midst of an explosion in a blanket factory.

"Why are we here?" He began. Before you start to think he was about to launch into a tirade of philosophy or theology... "I don't know about you lot, but we certainly dialed the right address."

He should have waited a little longer. Jack was still a little wound up from his...well, humiliation by a bunch of jarheads, to put it bluntly.

Makepeace looked up, insulted. He was sick of the prejudice surrounding the marines. I mean, they have to have some intelligence to join the military, it's a rule. It is just that most members choose not to demonstrate this intelligence. Or maybe they don't have any, they just cheated on the entrance exam.

"Are you suggesting that we didn't dial up right?! I know for sure we did!!"

"Well, so did we!!" put in Jack, angrily.

"So why the hell are we here?!"

Sam felt the need to enter the conversation before they all gave themselves heart attacks from high blood pressure. The Colonels weren't as young as they used to be.

That is such a stupid phrase. No one is as young as they used to be, it's impossible.

"Perhaps the wormhole jumped...or maybe we all dialed the wrong address..."

Daniel looked up, and added supportively, "Yeah, and maybe we should stop fighting and..."

But he was rudely interrupted by Jack, "Look, do either of you have any definite theories of why we're here?"

"Well...no..." Daniel admitted.

"Then why don't you go to hell," Jack yelled. He waved his arms around to include as many people as he possibly could. "And take your ideas with you. Why can't you let us argue in peace?"

The words had barely left Jack's mouth before Sam and Daniel disappeared with a poof. It wasn't a big theatrical poof, it was a feeble sixty and eighty litres of air rushing in to fill a new vacuum. You would have to listen very carefully to hear it.

Jack looked around, astonished. All the scientists were gone. As in, there one second, gone the next. He shared a worried glance with Teal'c, then dropped to his knees and began searching through the grass frantically. Everyone stared.

"....what's he doing?" asked Connors, confused.

"I believe he is searching for Major Carter and Daniel Jackson," Teal'c sort of explained.

"Yeah...but on the ground?"

Jack looked up, worried.

"If anyone sees a frog, _don't_ step on it!"

Everyone stared at Jack, then each other, back at Jack and finally at Teal'c, expecting some kind of explanation.

"On the Discworld, I was transformed into a frog by an irate wizard," offered Teal'c.

He got the looks that comment called for, but refused to elaborate.

*

Colonel Makepeace had had enough of this. Not only were they not home, but now he didn't even know where the hell some of his team were. They were conspicuously missing, and Makepeace didn't want to have to explain to Hammond. He grabbed Jack by the arm and hissed in his ear. "Look, O'Neill, wherever they are, they aren't here. And crawling around on your hands and knees won't help. The only thing we can do is try to figure out where they went."

Jack stood up and looked around sheepishly.

They headed back to the campsite. Unconsciously watching where they stood.

*

The Tok'ra were coming. Which was never good. It usually means something like "We've stuffed up while performing an advanced scientific experiment you couldn't possibly begin to comprehend, and we want you to go fix it."

General Hammond watched the Stargate with dread making his stomach uncomfortable. He had a bad case of needs-a-fizzy-powder-dissolved-in-water right now.

At the head of the ramp, the iris was open (unfortunately) and the shimmering event horizon was plainly visible, doing it's best impersonation of a swimming pool seen from a low flying helicopter (Oh and really clean, unlike most pools).

Some strange sounding sucking noises can be heard as the Tok'ra step through with their usual regality. How they make their way through live with their noses in the air like that is the subject of a great deal of cafeteria debate. No conclusion has been reached to this date.

The Tok'ra are essentially Goa'uld, with some slight differences. They don't take their hosts without their permission. Other than that, they are the same egotistical, arrogant bastards. They even do the same glowing eye trick and the funny voice synthesised bit.

Out of the Stargate stepped an entourage of two. Freija (or it could be Anise, at present we are unsure of who exactly is in control. After we get a look at her eyes we'll be able to figure that out) was wearing her usual tight, leather garment that was on the whole, far too revealing, especially for someone with her body. That sort of display set off some undesired emotions within the male members of the SGC. Unfortunately, most of the SGC were male. Her even featured face, framed by short, severely coiffured light brown hair, currently had a look of slight disdain and poorly masked amusement.

The guards stood pointing a large amount of weaponry at her, to which she gave an odd look, and raised her hands on mock surrender. She made her way down the ramp and ignored the guns following her every movement. That is not an easy thing to do and says a lot about either her arrogance, or her stupidity. We'll decide which one later.

The second member of the Tok'ra entourage was Jacob Carter. He was Samantha Carter's father but now he served as a host to a Tok'ra who answered to the name of Selmak. He stepped through the Stargate wearing the other type of clothing the Tok'ra seemed partial to. It was, basically, a calico sheet arranged artistically. The same sheet can be re-arranged to suit a variety of situations, which makes it a practical but unattractive garment.

It was instantly obvious who was in control of Jacob Carter's body at the moment by the way he jogged lightly down the ramp and gave General Hammond a good-natured hug as greeting. Then he stepped back and looked downwards. When he looked back up, his eyes glowed, and he said in a strangely distorted voice

"You wish to speak with us, General Hammond?"

That was pretty much the last thing he wanted at that point. Hammond sighed, then led them to the briefing room.

*

There was no ice skating. There were no snow balls. But what it lacked it made up with the fire and the screaming. For those of you who have read the original "Dante's Inferno" then you know what I am talking about. The those illiterate people who haven't, think HELL. Huddled outside the city gates (there is in fact a city in hell. It is called Pandemonium, and just happens to be where the demons reside. We know this because there is a decorative sign above the gates. It says "Welcome to Pandemonium. Population: unhappy.) And now is the perfect time for me to ask some of those questions that have been plaguing me for quite some time. If the fire is engulfing the cities of Hell, then why aren't there any black edges? And moreover, what kind of fuel are they using down there? Anyway...

Sam looked around. She had a vague idea of where they were, but was suffering from a syndrome commonly called denial.

"Daniel?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are we?"

"Pandemonium."

"Yes, I can read the sign...well those parts in English anyway. What does the rest say?"

"Welcome to Pandemonium."

"Oh..."

The huddled group converged on the gates. The huddled group entered the gates. The huddled group halted abruptly.

Pandemonium was a very aptly named city. Well, that doesn't really make sense, as the word pandemonium was actually derived from the name of the capital city of hell. And it the city is a very well deserving namesake. It was, to put it bluntly, chaos. Daniel stood with his mouth hanging open. He wasn't alone in this. Sam was also gaping stupidly at their surroundings. No, it wasn't what you think. There weren't horned demons wandering around everywhere. I mean, there were still demons, but the dominant species was human. Well, pedantically speaking the dominant species were two subsects of the human race. They are known as Politicians and Lawyers. They were everywhere. Sam backed away a step and bumped into a green thing marching around with a placard.

"The Apocalypse is coming! The Ragnorok is coming!! The End of the World is nigh!! It's..." Sam stared at it, then shook herself. She looked at Daniel desperately. He looked right back at her with a similar look on his face.

"You think we should get inside?" she asked. Daniel nodded earnestly.

"Let's just hope we don't see Maybourne..." he added.

*

Freija watched as a ritual was performed. The odour of freshly brewed coffee, vital for every meeting of any kind that the Tauri ever conducted, filled the conference room. She still did not see how something that smelt so good could taste so foul. It was so unfair.

She leant her elbows on the table. And encountered a sticky patch. She moved her arms away quickly, and scrubbed at them frantically with her hands, while giving the offending patch of table filthy looks. General Hammond snorted, and was silenced by her glare. The minor fact that her eyes flashed when she glared helped greatly in the silencing.

Freija relinquished control over to her symbiote, and Anise regarded General Hammond. The flashing eye thing really is unsettling, General Hammond decided.

"Why do you wish to speak with us?" She asked.

General Hammond gestured towards the tape he held in his hand.

"We were wondering if you knew anything about what is on this tape," he said, and leant over to put it into the video player. Anise and Selmak watched, then turned to the General.

"Why is the quality of this recording device so poor?" Anise asked. General Hammond chose to ignore her question, instead turning to face Selmak. "Do you have any way to explain this?"

"We were not involved in this matter," he replied levelly. "May we return now?"

General Hammond stared in shock. It was almost unheard of for something to screw up and the Tok'ra _not_ be involved. He drew himself out of his daze long enough to say, "Yes...please, Lieutenant, escort our guests back to the Gate room."

Then he returned to his daze. The Tok'ra looked at him strangely, then walked out.

Janet watched him, concerned. She waited for him to come out of it. Eventually he looked at her in despair.

"That only leaves the Asgard..."

She ran her fingers through her hair.

It didn't muss up, which annoyed General Hammond just as much as usual.

*

Sam spotted a bar. She pointed at it and looked questioningly at Daniel. He shrugged and nodded. So the huddled group went from a people cluster on the side of the road to a people cluster inside. The only thing was they had entered a demon bar. And were suddenly the center of attention. Sam stared back at them, then grinned.

"Right,: she said, and backed out the door. The others followed nervously. They stood around outside. And were completely obvious to the approaching figure. It is unfortunate, they really should pay more attention. Especially when something 7 feet tall, red, horned, carrying a pitchfork and swishing it's pointed tail angrily comes walking in what looks like your direction. But then again, they are in a hell of sorts, and with all these new experiences one can't be expected to be alert all the time. So they didn't notice the figure until it was right behind them. Daniel turned arund slowly, then let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like "eep." The other three turned slowly at the noise, then let out similar noises. The creature looked at Sam. She whimpered.

"I don't suppose you have a lighter?" asked the creature. Not only was tis a stupid question considering their current location, but when it comes out in this cultured accent from a seven foot tall red thing it rendered the usually talkative group speachless. Not a small feat, I assure you.

"I am going about this all wrong, aren't I? Hi, I'm Lewis Cypher, but you can call me Lucifer. Welcome to Pandemonium."

*

The collective minds of the remains of SG-1, 3 and 11 were unable to think of where the more intelligent members could have gone. All they had left was a collective half a brain, military training, all the gear, the Stargate, the GDO and wishful thinking. Between the entire bunch there was probably enough brains to open a can of Budwiser.

Provided there were instructions on the top of the can.

If they wrote the instructions on the bottom, the marines might never get a drink, well their feet would, I suppose.

"Damn, I wish the scientists were here. They could have worked this out in a second," said Jack, wistfully.

He had barely finished speaking when there was a _poof..._

*

There were similar expressions of stunned amazement. Lucifer grinned evilly (how else could he grin? Really.) and opened his mouth. Just as the flame gushed forth there was a _poof..._

*

...followed by the reappearance of the scientists. But they weren't in the same condition as when they had left. Unless when they left, they were scorched, sooty and extremely pissed off. There was a collective look of stunned amazement that slowly changed into a collective glare...aimed at Jack. Jack failed to notice that this last part, and he ran over the Sam and Daniel.

"Am I glad to see you guys!! Where were you?" he exclaimed. Then he noticed the identical death stares from all that seemed to be aimed in his general direction. "What?"

Daniel cleared his throat. If looks could kill, Jack would have died many times over. Painfully. Only to be revived simply so that he could suffer and die again. Their previous destination had given them all sorts of ideas and insights into the ways to punish Jack O'Neill.

"We went to hell, Jack," Samantha explained through gritted teeth. "Literally. With flames and blood and torture...oh, and did I mention screaming?."

"No," said Daniel Jacksin through equally compressed jaws. "But I will, there was lots of screaming."

Jack stared at him with his mouth hanging open.

"How?" was all he could bring himself to ask.

"Well, you know how we had no idea how exactly this place was built?" asked Sam. Jack nodded. "We figured it out while we waited to burn to death. It turns out the reason it can exist is because it has an improbability drive. An overactive, most likely broken one at that. Basically, it acts off verbal commands, so anything you say comes true. So when you told us to go to hell..."

Jack listened with his mouth hanging open. Despite the simplicity of Sam's speech, he was finding it difficult to follow. He thought for a minute (remarkable!! He's done that a few times today!! And we all thought his brain had atrophied.(To the poiint where he doesn't know that that means. Ha.))

"So...if a say 'I want a Big Mac, large fries and a Coke..."

He didn't need to finish his statement. The requested items burst into being right at his feet.

"....riiiiiiight. So how do whoever built this place know what a Big Mac is?"

"I think it works off mental imagery as well. You pictured the food in your head as you said it, so it knew what you wanted."

This was beginning to creep Jack out. Not only was this place impossible, but telepathic. It sent little feet running down his spine, little ones with bad circulation and blue skin tone that can't be healthy. It is probably a good thing he did not say this aloud, as I don't think he would appreciate little feet literally running down his spine. That ranks really high on the I-am-not-seeing-this-I am-not-here meter.

*

General Hammond was at a loss. He had resigned himself to waiting for the inevitable contact from the Asgards. And they were weird.

The Asgards were even worse than the Tok'ra, at least the Tok'ra looked in proportion. The Asgard have unnaturally large heads for such skinny, short little bodies. And they look uncomfortably like the aliens on the X Files.

But then again, Hammond looked uncomfortably like Scully's Dad on the X Files, so they can be forgiven for looking like recycled cheap aliens. Actually Hammond looks so much like Scully's dad that they could be twins, funny how that could happen, both of them being senior military and all that. And now that I think of it there was Bobby's dad, the Major on Twin Peaks as well...

Hammond slumped forward onto his desk in despair. He really wanted to inform the president now, but unfortunately that was impossible. His earlier behaviour had eliminated this as a course of action. He lifted his head and looked forlornly at the unswept remains of the treasured red telephone. God, how he wanted it back.

*

Janet Fraiser was still in the infirmary, watching over...well, no one actually. There wasn't anyone seriously injured or ill enough to warrant her vigil. She just didn't fell up to driving home and waiting for something to happen there. She also didn't really want to have to explain to a teenager what the hell had happened when this was all over. She sighed, and walked over to the outside line telephone.

"Cassie? It's me. Look, I'm not going to be home for awhile...yes honey, something's happened... no, you know I can't tell you...just go to bed some time tonight...no, you can't order pizza, make something from what we already have!"

*

The stranded SG teams had gotten over their earlier (short-lived) anxiety, and were currently living the good life. There were limitless possibilities on what to do when whatever you wanted was granted. The Marines were currently drunk on the grog they had so raucously requested.

Jack chose to ignore their lovely renditions of Bohemian Rhapsody and 99 bottles of beer on the wall. They weren't singing it, they were just doing it. Jack stepped carefully around all the broken green glass shards (and puzzled over the fact that the Marines hadn't even been intelligent enough to figure out one simple fact: 99 bottles of beer divided by four equaled serious hangovers in the morning) and walked over to Sam and Doctor Peterson.

They were playing around with the particle accelerator Sam had asked for. She didn't need a reason, she just though it would be cool to have one.

You are probably wondering at this time why no one thought to just wish themselves home. So am I, and I can read their minds and I don't have a clue. Just dense I guess. And what kind of story would that make anyway?

Jack watched them push buttons seemingly at random and listened to their quiet exclamations, then chose to ignore them too. He wandered aimlessly until he reached Daniel. He was sitting on the ground working on a translation of the temple they had photographed on the previous mission, content with his one true wish. A limitless supply of chocolate and coffee to tide him over. Jack couldn't believe that he was actually working...and technically, so was Sam. Anything in the world...well, sphere, and they chose to work?? Jack decided to ignore him too. He meandered over to Teal'c. Who was meditating.

'Why is it out of all the people I could have worked with, I get the most boring bunch of workaholics with a serious lack of a life?!' he thought angrily, and stormed over to SG-11.

At least they knew a good thing when they saw it.

In Jack's experience, generally, good things didn't involve pain, shooting and Goa'uld. And this place had none of those things, therefore making it a good thing. Jack sat down with them.

They were eating pizza, drinking beer and watching the television that Levinson had cooked up.

"Hey, is the hockey on?" asked Jack.

"There is now. Hey, impossibility drivey thing or whatever the hell you are, I want hockey on the telly," replied Michaels, and was answered by the screen flickering, then showing a hockey game.

"This is the life..." commented Jack, sighing contentedly. He rested his feet on his newly acquired footstool and grinned.

*

Unknown to our lost heroes (who are depressingly not doing anything particularly heroic at the moment, so there goes any dramatic tension...damn them!!!), and Asgard research vessel was conducting research on their new toy. And picking up some incongruous life signs. Ones that looked suspiciously like human. (Of course, the Asgard didn't know that they're were humans inside their new plaything. They couldn't see in...which explains why later on all their Dyson Sphere's were made so that they were transparent on the outside and opaque on the inside, like those funky mirrors that are used in interrogations. They tried making it transparent on both sides, but it led to mass insanity, so was disregarded as a "Bad Idea")

The Asgard command center was indistinguishable from the rest of the ship...probably because the Asgard suffer from a severe lack of creativity. There on the "command center" stood Thor, Odin and Freya. (Not the Tok'ra Freija, the Norse goddess Freija. There is a difference. For one thing, Tok'ra Freija isn't small, grey and indistinguishable from other members of her species. And Asgard Freija isn't a taxi service for an arrogant, egotistical Tok'ra who answers to the name Anise. There are several other differences, but I can't be bothered writing them. You'll get over it.) Thor turned to look at Freija.

"I thought it would be impossible for humans to reach this place...we are using all our own Stargates."

One of the similarities between Tok'ra Freija and Asgard Freija is that both work in science and are inclined to make mistakes. But they are also both advanced enough so that their mistakes usually don't result in them being injured. They leave that to mere savages, like humans. But, once again, I digress.

"We are using our own Stargates...unless....ooops." (I have to add here that I am writing this in English, despite it being spoken in Asgard. I would have no hope of spelling it right, and anyway, we couldn't possibly understand what they're saying if I write it in their language...I probably wouldn't even understand, and this is _my_ story!)

Thor looked at Odin, who merely cocked his head (how is that possible? I mean, look at them. Cocking their heads like that would throw off their center of gravity. They'd fall over. Oh well, too bad. He is going to cock his head anyway.) and blinked quizzically.

"Take me to the Tau'ri," commanded Thor. He received the Asgard equivalent of rolling the eyes. The ship didn't actually belong to Thor. The Bank of Asgard were very reluctant to lease another ship to Thor after the unfortunate destruction of his original "chariot." But he sweet talked them (Asgard style- he cocked his head and blinked a lot until their eyes began to water and they let him have it so that he'd stop.) an managed to swindle another ship. Anyway...

The ship turned majestically and flew away. Something that looked suspiciously like a Stargate wormhole formed in front of it's nose, and the ship plunged into it, disappearing into the swirling abyss. It is probably a good thing Sam doesn't know that this happened, because she would be kicking herself. How many times does an astrophysicist get the chance to see a stable wormhole be formed? Other than the many times she has seen the Stargate initiate. I mean, this one was special. It was big, swirly and very pretty. And now it is gone. What a shame.

*

Janet knocked gently on General Hammond's door. She waited for a reply. She was denied the privilege. She pushed to door open slowly and looked at the table. She was greeted by a pink sphere. On second glance the sphere turned out to be the top of Hammond's head. He was dead to the world, one hand protectively wrapped around what suspiciously looked like the red telephone. If you were an abstract art critic. No one else could possibly have made any sense out of that mess. Including me, I can't tell the difference between Picasso and a car crash. But that's irrelevant.

Janet made her way carefully over the table and placed the precious substance she carried next to him. That's right, she bore the sacred chalice containing the revered liquid- coffee. She turned to walk out and nearly tripped over a small, grey alien.

"Greetings," said Thor and cocked his head. Janet stared at him. Something about the gesture rang a bell...she ran her fingers through her hair. Thor blinked quizzically, trying to work out the purpose of the gesture.

"You're Thor!!" she exclaimed. Thor stared at this strange female. He was sure they hadn't met before, but was struggling with the fact that the Tau'ri all looked so alike. And she seemed to possess the same strange power as Major Carter. Somehow, neither of them seemed capable of having messy hair for very long. It seemed to unconsciously tidy itself up again when he wasn't looking. He blinked again.

"Sam told me about you. Hi, I'm Janet," she said, extending her hand towards Thor. Thor stared at the hand and blinked furiously. This female was scaring him. Lord only knew what infections were carried on that hand! He wanted to get out of here.

"I need to speak with your General Hammond. Where can I find him?" asked Thor. Janet blinked, then said "oh, sorry, he's sleeping."

"Or he _was_ sleeping," put in Hammond, sitting up. He had been awake for most of the conversation, and had been listening in on everything said, hoping for something juicy. He was disappointed. He turned to Thor.

"What do you wish to talk about?"

"It would be better you came with me," said Thor. The office was bathed in white light as soon as Thor finished his sentence. When it died away, the three people were gone. The aide-de-camp looked up from what he was doing and saw General Hammond, Doctor Fraiser and the strange alien disappear. He stared at where they had been, then dismissed it. He would be knocking off in another 10 minutes, so there was no need for him to concern himself with minor matters like the unexplained disappearance of his commander. There were more important concerns like Did Joey sleep with Pacey and not tell Dawson about it?

General Hammond was mildly disoriented. As in his inner ear was having a furious argument with his eyes as to which way was up. In the end the inner ear won, having brought on the artillery of the stomach. He promptly emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

Thor blinked at it, affronted. No one else had regurgitated after he brought them on board. He looked at the female. She looked mildly squeamish, but still retained her lunch. He looked back at Hammond, who seemed to be finished decorating the floor. Janet walked over and whispered into what she assumed was Thor's ear "He doesn't go through the gate as often as everyone else, so he's not as used to abrupt gravitational changes as everyone else." Thor blinked, then hurried out of the room, gesturing for the humans to follow.

The smell was rather unpleasant.

*

There is only one problem with an unlimited grog supply, as the unfortunate Marines found out. Too much will make you pass out, and when you wake up...well, hangover doesn't even begin to describe it. And the fact that they were suffering from their hangovers in the company of two scientists armed with a particle accelerator and a group of men armed with pizza and cable television. Which would explain why the marines were currently sitting with Daniel. He was quiet, and better yet, he had coffee and aspirin. They sat in silence, punctuated by the occasional shuffling of paper and the muffled complaints of the noise.

Sam had discovered that there were a lot of buttons on her new toy. She was "experimenting". This means she was pushing buttons at random and watching eagerly for any results. Doctor Peterson was standing behind her and cheering as the grass in the vicinity was scorched. While many people have said that scientists are smart, this doesn't automatically mean that they are mature. It just means that they can think of more ways to be immature.

SG-11+1 (the 1 being Jack O'Neill) were currently watching a game of football. Australian football. And were shocked. American football is rough, so they're players run around covered with 10 inches of padding. Australian football is equally rough, minus the padding. Jack joined in the cheering of "AUSSIE, AUSSIE, AUSSIE, OI, OI, OI!!" (For those non-Australians out there, this is a classic national song used at every occasion by drunken football fans. Check that. Make that drunks.)

Hammond sat and stared at the viewscreen in front of him. So _this_ was what his missing teams were up to! While everyone back at the SGC was working their...rear ends off, they were getting drunk, watching television, pushing buttons on a strange device and cheering at the results. He was becoming angry. You can tell by the rapid pulsing of the vein on his forehead. And the way his face has gone an unbecoming shade of chartreuse. Janet looked at him, concerned. It couldn't be good for his blood pressure. Hammond took in a deep breath. Janet stepped backwards and tried to look as innocent as possible.

"Make them stop this at once!!" he exploded furiously. Thor blinked, then pushed a button in front of him. This was all for show, the ship actually picked up on Thor's thought processes, but Thor was developing some dramatic flair. (Too much contact with aliens was the cause, and he would later require extensive therapy to once again be considered socially acceptable.) The screen went black.

The scenery disappeared. The television disappeared. The footstool disappeared. The particle accelerator disappeared. The chocolate and coffee...well, it was already gone, but the wrappers disappeared. Which was actually a good thing, because Daniel was not looking forward to cleaning all that mess up. All that was left was a bland metal sphere. Jack looked around comically, then faced Sam.

"What the hell did you do?!"

"It wasn't me!!"

"It had to be you because it's always either you or Daniel, and I didn't see Daniel pushing buttons on some new...thing...to see what'd happen!"

"Well, it wasn't me! Maybe _you_ did something!!"

"Oh, and what have I done lately?"

"Well, I distinctly remember someone sending me to hell...could that have been you?!"

Jack looked sheepish.

"Alright, then it wasn't anything you did. Would someone please explain what the hell just happened? I mean, we just broke this thing, and whoever built is not going to be happy."

*

Thor suddenly disappeared.

*

And reappeared in front of Jack.

"You asked?"

Jack stared. And stared some more. Everyone else decided that this was a good course of action, so they stared as well.

"We turned off the improbability drive. Therefore, anything it created also disappeared. We apologise for your presence, it was a mistake on our part. Oh, and your General Hammond is waiting for you," said Thor. There was an exchange of looks. Broken by a booming voice.

"What the HELL did you think you were doing?!"

Teal'c turned to face General Hammond. He looked rather unwell. Teal'c considered pointing this out to him, then decided against it. Hammond surveyed the group in front of him. Not all were guilty in this. He could tell by the way some flinched and looked at thei shoes while others looked around quizzically and actually made eye contact with Hammond.

"Teal'c, Doctor Jackson, you're free to go."

They sighed gratefully and walked out, closely followed by Janet. Well, Daniel sighed in relief, Teal'c just inclined his head and exited. Jack watched them go wistfully. He would give anything to be in their shoes right now. Sam and Doctor Peterson looked at Hammond with hopeful expressions on their faces. They could easily cover their activities with the excuse "We took an advantage when it presented itself and conducted experiments on an advanced piece of equipment, sir." Hammond didn't really want to hear this excuse again, it was wearing thin but there was nothing he could do to punish them. He sighed.

"Doctor Peterson, Major Carter, you are also free to go. Just remember next time to read the instruction manual on new equipment instead of figure it out yourselves."

Sam and Doctor Peterson sagged in relief, then quickly straightened and rushed out of the room. There was no way that they were staying in there any longer than needed. They joined Daniel, Teal'c and Janet outside the door. Daniel looked them questioningly, and pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I don't know..."

There was a brief exchange of looks, followed by a universal decision. All of them pressed their ears against the door.

"I can't believe this! All of you commissioned officers, and you behaved like civilians!!"

Daniel looked insulted and opened his mouth to complain. He took offence to that comment.

"Ssshhh!" hissed Sam, pre-emptively quieting him.

"Watching television while people are working triple shifts to get you home! Colonels, I thought you two in particular would know better!!"

Janet grinned. This was amusing. It served them right for all the times they gave her attitude. Attitude along the lines of "I am NOT sick, so let me up!!" Usually followed by the individual attempting to stand against medical advice and falling flat on their face. And then they expect her to help them back up again. This was poetic justice in her opinion.

"I am particularly appalled with you, Colonel Makepeace!! Allowing yourself and your team to become drunk while offworld in unknown territory!!"

Sam snorted. She didn't really like Makepeace much. And who can blame her?

"SG teams 1, 3 and 11 are all on clean-up duty for the next two weeks. No complaints," announced Hammond decisively.

The eavesdroppers all exchanged looks of horror. At least, all of them except Teal'c and Janet. Janet wasn't on any of those teams, and Teal'c was just confused. He raised an eyebrow.

"Excepting Major Carter, Teal'c and Doctors Jackson and Peterson," finished Hammond, much to the relief of those mentioned. "You are all dismissed."

The eavesdroppers jumped back from the door and tried not to look guilty. Makepeace walked out first, mumbling "You lucky bastards" as he passed. SG-3 and 11 followed avoiding eye contact. Jack came out last. He ignored his teammates and followed the others. Finally General Hammond walked out. Sam tried to smother her grin, but it wasn't entirely successful. He frowned at her and walked off. Sam turned to Daniel.

"See, there is a good side to working all the time." Daniel grinned.

*

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The Stargate was replaced with quite a lot of apologies from the Asguard. They promise not to try any more experiments in the near future. But we all know what they're like... oh sorry, that's the Tok'ra. But they're actually quite similar when you get right down to it.


End file.
